Fried Eggs And Other Small Tragedies
by Orange Sodie
Summary: There's normal relationships, and then there's having a relationship with Maxine Valera. RV. Start of a series.
1. Chapter 1

Fried Eggs And Other Small Tragedies  
By Carolina

As he made his way through the lab that afternoon, Ryan blatantly shot his watch an annoyed look and sighed.

7 o'clock. Normal people (as normal as they got in Miami) were probably all home by now, home with their families, enjoying dinner, maybe getting ready to watch a movie. Normal people didn't stay at work until 7 pm, mainly because they had other normal people to go home to, normal kids, perhaps a normal dog... He'd realized long before that he'd never be a part of the normal crowd. Normal just wasn't a word that belonged in his vernacular or his lifestyle, and having been his choice to become a cop and then later a CSI, he was more than okay with that.

Most of the time.

Not when the mayor's nephew gets gunned down in a drug related shootout, when he has hundreds of people breathing down his neck and urging him to solve the case as quickly as humanly possible. That's when he envied the normal people with their normal lives and their normal nine-to-five jobs. He wouldn't be a part of that crowd, ever, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like.

He walked into the DNA lab and upon finding it empty he sighed again. Valera's favorite microscope sat there abandoned, and as Ryan walked closer he spotted a broken glass slide on the counter next to it. He frowned at it, fighting the urge to clean it up, but fearing possible contamination he merely walked over to the IN box and went through the files it contained.

And there was his. Right at the bottom of the pile.

He ran his hands through his face to control his ill temper and looked around, quickly noticing the door to the supply room was open. He approached the room and walked in a little hesitantly, and upon doing so he thought he heard something weird, some kind of mouse squeaking. He walked around the boxes and boxes of supplies, all the way to the back of the room, and in the corner he finally spotted Valera, sitting on the floor Indian style, looking at her shoes miserably.

"Valera?"

She looked up quickly and appeared both surprised and annoyed to see him before she looked down again and wiped her face with the sleeve of her lab coat. Ryan grimaced at the action.

"Ryan, what are you doing here?"

He frowned at her, both worried and curious because even though her face was red and her eyes puffy, she sounded completely normal. "I was just—" She sniffed again and he stopped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said convincingly. "I just—I was just thinking about that movie."

"What movie?"

"That—" she began lamely, waving her hand dismissively, "whatever, Julia Roberts thing."

Ryan ran the titles through his head, though he wasn't very familiar with Julia Roberts' filmography. There was only one movie he knew for a fact everyone cried to. Everyone but him, of course. He was much too strong and manly-like to get emotional over such nonsense and besides, he really _did_ have something in his eye that one time.

"Steel Magnolias?" he said. "The one where she dies?"

Valera looked up, shocked. "She _dies_?" she said loudly and sighed. "Great."

"Sorry," Ryan said, ducking his head and coming over to sit next to her. When she sniffed again, her eyes watering, he knew there was more to it than some sappy movie. "But you're not crying because of that."

She didn't say anything, but looked away and sniffed again, looking like a five year old on a time out.

"Did something happen?"

"No," she said, somewhat annoyed, though he wondered if she was mostly annoyed at herself.

Ryan nodded. "Guy?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, somewhat offended by his assumption, but the fact that she didn't deny it gave him his answer.

"Oh," Ryan said, looking away and feeling awkward. He'd never been good at this, at talking to girls about their feelings and their asshole boyfriends and reassuring them everything was going to be alright. Mainly because nothing was ever alright. Because nice girls were nice girls and assholes were assholes, and that would never change, and for as long as nice girls and assholes got together the outcome would always be the same.

"Want me to go get Calleigh?" he said as sympathetically as he could, mainly trying to conceal that feeling of helplessness.

"No," Valera said quickly. "Calleigh will just think I'm being stupid."

Ryan nodded, giving her that. If he was bad at giving girls the _your boyfriend is an ass but you're gonna be okay_ pep talk, Calleigh was probably worse. "Natalia?"

She chuckled bitterly and at the mere mention of the name more tears sprung from her eyes. Ryan nodded understandingly.

"Nick."

"It's stupid," she said softly.

"Yeah, it is," he sighed, frustrated. "He was a jerk, Valera."

"I know."

"I don't get it," Ryan said, starting to feel angry. "What is it about these guys? Is it the tattoos or the bikes, or is there something particularly erotic about living in fear of your life that I don't get? I mean really, I _really_ wanna know what is it about these assholes that girls love so much. Meanwhile, nice, honest, good guys sit at home, alone, waiting for the phone to ring. How does that work? What is the logic behind it?"

But Valera didn't seem to be hearing him, and if she was she didn't react much. She merely stared at the floor contemplatively as he ranted beside her, and if she were paying attention she would've taken offense to his rant, but her mind was miles away and she was too tired.

"You know how we always call people stupid when they kill someone by accident and don't call 911?" she finally said, feeling angsty and tired and numb all at once.

Ryan stopped and looked at her, and realizing perhaps his assumptions had been wrong he softened up a bit, understanding finally why she was hiding in the back of the supply room, crying. He sighed and looked at her hands, and though logic and popular culture dictated he should probably put his arm around her or hold her hand at that point, he didn't move.

"You were scared."

"I _know_ better," she said, irate. "All I had to do was call Horatio and it would've been okay, you know? And Nick would be alive."

"Valera," Ryan sighed, shifting in place and looking around the dark room. "It's not your fault."

"Isn't it?" Valera shook her head adamantly. "If I'd just called 911... he would've been arrested and Murdock wouldn't have gotten to him. He wouldn't have died."

Ryan thought about it for a moment, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them. He looked ahead, trying to think of a good argument, but after a moment he realized there probably wasn't one and he just nodded. "That's true," he said softly.

She chuckled mirthlessly and looked at him. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Valera," Ryan said. "I mean, you're getting upset over something you can't change."

She shook her head, biting her lip out of frustration. Hell, not that sitting there alone and crying during her shift was going to solve anything, but it'd been a week since Nick died and she found she couldn't do much else. At night she couldn't sleep, couldn't erase the image of him lying on the floor, motionless. She still couldn't forget, as much as she tried, the panic that burst inside of her when she thought she'd killed him. She still felt the cold metal of the cuffs as they escorted her to a holding cell and she recalled sitting there, alone, thinking she would spend the rest of her life behind bars.

Not exactly the best day of her life.

Mostly she still couldn't figure out why she ran. She was sure there was some psychological explanation for it, the fight or flight theory, but psychology doesn't really apply when you work in law enforcement, when you've been told over and over again what to do during a real emergency. It was okay when other people panicked and ran. Not particularly okay, but somehow understandable. People get scared, and when people get scared they run.

But _she_ knew better. She knew the consequences. She knew what would happen if she got in her car and drove away. She knew it as she drove back to the lab, as she walked into the building like nothing happened and avoided eye contact with everyone and resumed her duties. She knew it would only be a matter of hours before they figured it out, because they _always_ figured it out. It would be a fingerprint, or a DNA contribution, or her hair, her lipstick on his skin...

It would come back to her, she'd known it all along, and yet she still couldn't understand why she ran.

"Look, I'm Captain Screw Up. Not a week goes by that I don't mess something up," Ryan said, scaring her thoughts away. "If I spent all my time wondering what if--"

"This is different, Ryan. Nobody's ever died because you messed up."

"True," he said, starting to feel some of her frustration. He finally sighed and said definitively, "Valera, Nick died because Jeff Murdock killed him, not because you did or didn't call 911. I mean, you could've called Horatio or the cops... maybe he'd still be alive, I don't know, but you can't hold yourself accountable for other people's actions."

"I know I didn't kill him," Valera explained. "But if I'd done the right thing I could've prevented it."

Ryan pressed his lips together, wanting to offer her some form of vindication, excuse her actions, prove she was wrong, but the truth was he wasn't entirely sure that she _was_ wrong. And he knew it was also useless to live wondering what if, but he also understood her obsession with wanting to know the answers, with wanting to turn back time and go back and do everything right.

He'd messed up in his life, more times than he could count. He wasn't a stranger to regret. He knew, even now, years after it happened, that if he'd told Horatio that one time that the evidence he presented him with had been discovered by Delko and not himself, he and Eric would be on much better terms, none of their subsequent altercations had occurred and who knows, he probably wouldn't have gotten that nail in his eye. Fate had a funny way of doing things. But he also knew that obsessing over the past was a waste of time and energy.

So he nodded morosely. "Maybe."

Valera looked at him and smiled. "That still doesn't make me feel better."

He returned the smile and looked down. "I don't wanna lie to you, Valera," Ryan said. "I guess it's just something you learn to live with."

She nodded, looking down and taking a deep breath. "Yeah."

He looked at her, and though she still seemed a bit under the weather at least she wasn't crying and using her lab coat as a Kleenex, which was all he wanted.

"Come on." Ryan stood up, offering a hand and when she took it (a little reluctantly) he pulled her onto her feet. She started to walk away but he held her hand, and when she looked at him, her eyes big and red and still looking scared and small, he got the strange feeling he was looking at Valera for the first time in his life.

"You're a good person," he said, squeezing her hand. "That's the bottom line."

She smiled at him, feeling fresh tears in her eyes and feeling a little overwhelmed she leaned into him, kissing the corner of his mouth before she snaked her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Ryan."

He stood there motionless and awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say or do, and when he finally put his hands on the small of her back she pulled away, a brighter smile on her face. "I'm gonna take a break and then work on your sample, okay?"

Ryan nodded at her and she took off, leaving him alone in the supply room, and still feeling her lips on the corner of his mouth he couldn't help feeling greatly confused, albeit if he wanted to admit it, also a tad... alright.

Hmm.


	2. Full Adoption of the Delko Technique

**Fried Eggs And Other Small Tragedies**  
_Chapter Two: Full Adoption Of The Delko Technique  
_

"Did you get the results?"

"What?"

Eric frowned at his partner, fighting the urge to slap him across the head with a newspaper. He'd just walked out of a long, tiring brainstorming session with Calleigh, expecting to find Ryan hard at work on the evidence they got. Instead, he found him standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at nothing.

Every day he picked up on another one of Horatio's idiotic tendencies.

"Did you get the results?" Eric said. "I'm assuming you did and that's why you're standing here doing nothing while the rest of us are still working."

"Oh," Ryan said morosely, frowning slightly. He looked down at the little bag in his hand. "Uh, not yet."

Eric was a little taken aback by the response. "Do you want me to carry you inside and then put you down for a nap, or is there another reason why you're just standing there?"

Ryan hesitated, looking at the door in front of him with a great deal of reluctance. He wanted to give Eric an answer, a good answer, but he found himself at a loss and it didn't take the older CSI long before he sighed.

"Well, if we could get the results before my retirement party, that would be super terrific," Eric said and began to walk away. "What's with you, man?"

Ryan didn't watch him go, but rather looked down at his sparkly black shoes and then up again.

He _wanted_ to go in there. He wanted to drop the sample off and get the results promptly and finally put this asshole behind bars. He wanted to do his job.

The problem was: Valera stood on the other side of the door, and though in any given day Ryan found himself walking into the DNA lab at least 20 times, today he found he couldn't even look in the room's direction without freezing in place.

He wasn't scared, not... really. Not _of_ her, at least. He _was_ somehow apprehensive about walking in as casually as he was capable of and somehow making a fool out of himself, on account of his personality and all. He was scared of opening his mouth only to find his voice was gone or worse, squeaky and awkward like he was some nerdy prepubescent boy. Or maybe none of those things would happen. Maybe he would simply walk in, the epitome of smoothness, only to slip on an unsuspecting banana peel and fall down right in front of her.

Because you never know when you might slip on a banana peel. He knew that much from watching cartoons.

But hell, not that he cared. Not that Valera cared. Not that he cared if Valera cared or not. He was just anxious, for no reason that he could think of except he was still hyper-aware of the bit of skin on the corner of his mouth where she kissed him, and how different it felt from the rest of his body.

He was nervous, that much he knew. He didn't know the reason, or why Valera was a part of it, he only knew that when he got nervous he tended to say and do the wrong things. Embarrassing things. Flashback freshman year of high school, 1992, mustering up the courage to walk up to Christy Wilcox, the most popular girl in school, only to end up accidentally spitting his gum on her expensive silk blouse. Cue her loud shrieks and never-ending tears. Ryan didn't remember much after that, except meeting Christy's boyfriend short after for a taste of an atomic wedgie and a nice little shove into the girls' bathroom. Not exactly the best of times.

So when he spotted Natalia walking down the hallway he quickly ran in her direction, placing the bag of evidence in her hands as she gave him a weird look.

"Hey, Natalia, could you give this to Valera?" he said quickly. "Tell her it's from the Pruitt case. Thanks, thanks so much."

"No—Ryan!" Natalia began to protest but he was gone. Sighing at the bag of evidence, she walked into the DNA. "Idiot."

---

"Hey. Wanna join me for lunch? Unless you still have some more staring ahead to do. I understand how important it is for you to achieve full Caine potential."

Ryan frowned at Eric's sarcasm, pulling a chair back and letting his body fall on it with a loud thump before he smacked a brown bag on the table and began to retrieve his lunch from inside. Normally he didn't let Eric get away with insulting him – not _too_ often anyway – but today he wasn't in the mood.

A fact that didn't go over Eric's head.

The older CSI inspected him as he sat back in his chair and Ryan suddenly felt like an animal on display at the zoo. "Girl problems?"

Ryan's head snapped up. "No! What? No—how did you—"

Eric chuckled. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"Like you just figured out you're in love with Dylan but now he's going out with Kelly," Eric said and Ryan frowned at him. "I have sisters," he added defensively.

Ryan shook his head and looked down at his suddenly unappetizing sandwich. Not that he didn't consider Eric a friend per se, he did, despite their tumultuous relationship. Something about unloading his thoughts into another human being just didn't feel quite right. He'd always been reserved about his personal problems, and there was a great chance Eric wouldn't understand anyway. Hell, he didn't understand it himself and besides, he was sure he was making a big deal out of nothing.

"Come on, I wrote the book on girl problems," Eric said.

"And that's supposed to comfort me?"

"Rest assured that whatever it is you're going through, I've been there at least five times. This is me passing my knowledge on to you."

Ryan smiled sardonically. "It's always nice when whores give something back to the community."

Eric nodded and rolled his eyes. "I'm only letting that one slide cause you're feeling under the weather. Now spit it or I'll punch you in the mouth for the whore remark."

Ryan sighed, looking at him and feeling conflicted. On the one hand he wasn't sure how Eric would help, and he didn't feel too comfortable talking about his personal problems, he never had. On the other hand, Eric might shed some light into the situation, which grew more worrisome and confusing by the second. Sometimes when the evidence isn't being cooperative, it's good to have a fresh pair of eyes to help.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair.

"Ever felt, uh..." he hesitated, grimacing at the look on Eric's face. "You know..."

Eric looked at him expectantly. "...not so fresh down there? Don't worry, sweetheart, it happens to all of us."

"Okay, I'm done," Ryan said, standing up.

But Eric grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down as he chuckled. "Relax, Wolfe, it was a joke. Come on, I'm listening."

Ryan sat down with a sigh, looking around reluctantly and feeling a tad nervous again. And pissed, both at Eric and... hell, everyone. Mostly at himself for over-thinking things, because now that the words were leaving his mouth they sounded ridiculous and petty.

He began again. "I was just wondering—well, it would appear that this girl kissed me lately, and uh—"

Eric frowned. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"So I know her."

Ryan looked at him. "What?"

"If I didn't know her you would've just pointed that out," Eric explained.

Ryan shook his head, confused. "No, I mean, it's just—it doesn't matter." Eric became pensive. "Anyway, recently, this girl kissed me, and I'm just—I'm just not sure what the kiss meant," Ryan finished, scratching the back of his head and feeling slightly foolish.

Eric frowned. "She just kissed you."

Ryan nodded. "Yes."

"Out of the blue."

"Yes, well—somewhat. Um, we'd been talking beforehand," he explained. "But yes, pretty much."

Eric narrowed his eyes at him. "Was it Calleigh?"

"What? No," Ryan said. "Why would Calleigh kiss me?"

Eric frowned suspiciously, but then shrugged his shoulders. "It's a kiss, Wolfe. Of course she likes you. You don't usually make out with someone unless you do."

"Well, that's the thing, it wasn't a, you know, like a kiss with tongue and all that," Ryan said. "It was sort of a—a peck."

"A peck."

"But it was on the corner of my mouth, like, _at least_ forty percent of her lips were on mine," Ryan added, looking at Eric expectantly. "What does it mean?"

But Eric shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, man."

Ryan frowned. "I thought you said you were an expert!"

"Well, it's kinda hard to tell without knowing who you're talking about," Eric said defensively. "I man, I would have to know—"

"It wasn't Calleigh," Ryan said, annoyed.

"Okay."

Ryan sighed, pushing his sandwich away. "I hate it when they do that. Why do women do that? Don't they know how hard it is to decipher the kiss on the corner of the mouth? I mean, does she see me as a friend, or does she like me and this was her way of showing it, or did she just miscalculate the distance between her cheek and my cheek—I mean, forty percent, that's _a lot_ of lip for it to be an accident, right? I guess it would be clearer if it'd been something like sixty percent or seventy percent, but forty percent isn't exactly chaste, either. Right?"

"Okay, first of all, settle down, you're starting to release progesterone," Eric said, watching as Ryan sighed miserably. "Second, this is an easy problem with an even easier solution."

Ryan looked up, hopeful. "Really? What should I do?"

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Kiss her."

"What? No, I'm not gonna kiss her," Ryan chuckled nervously.

"It's the only way to find out."

"Really? The _only_ way?" Ryan said sarcastically. "I can't just ask her?"

Eric shook his head. "Kids," he sighed. "No, you can't ask her. You can't just walk up to a girl and ask her if she likes you, what is this, junior high?"

"Oh, right, asking her would be stupid, I can see why the sensible thing would be to _rape_ her," Ryan said sarcastically.

"A kiss is not rape," Eric said, annoyed. "Besides, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

"She could shoot me!" Ryan said dramatically.

Eric's eyes narrowed again. "She has access to guns?"

"It's not Calleigh!" Ryan said. "And I'm sorry, I can't do that, I can't just walk up to a woman and kiss her, I'm not Ricardo Montalban."

"You don't have to be, just need to be confident, man," Eric said, starting to feel frustrated. "How did you hook up with Suzie Reporter, anyway?"

"We were drunk," Ryan confessed. "And she sort of... took the lead on that one."

Eric chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, you need more help than I thought."

Ryan sighed. "Still, this girl is not like Erica. _At all_. I can't just—I can't just kiss her, I don't know how she'd react."

Eric sighed, gathering the remains of his lunch into a bag. "Just do it, man. Trust me, it works," he said, standing up and patting Ryan's back. "Worst case scenario, she slaps you, in which case you just move on. But what if she doesn't? What if she _likes_ it?"

Ryan became thoughtful, staring straight ahead as Eric left the room. Could Valera really like him? No, come on. His first year in the lab she _hated_ his guts. They spent most of their time bickering and he was partly responsible for her getting suspended. And true, they'd put all their differences aside and got along better now, but that still didn't mean she liked him.

Did it?

He shook his head. No. There was no way in hell. Girls like Valera didn't go after guys like him. They were a mismatch made in the fiery pits of hell. She was crazy and unpredictable and fun, he was serious, obsessed with routine and cantankerous. He spent his weekends meticulously cleaning his apartment; hers was probably a mess. He took refuge in being careful, ready, and cautious; she probably did what she wanted, when she wanted, without concerning herself with time, money or consequences. She didn't like him. She _couldn't_ like him. The problem was...

He was starting to like her. He didn't know how or when it happened, but he understood now he was starting to develop a little crush on Maxine Valera.

And how was he supposed to deal with that? What if it kept growing and growing into something more dangerous? He needed to put an end to it, because he wasn't particularly fond of the possibility of getting his heart broken, and he _would_ get his heart broken, because there was no way in hell that Maxine Valera thought of him as anything more than a co-worker.

Of course, she'd kissed him. So what? She had been feeling emotional and grateful and sometimes people do stupid things when they're emotional. Because other than that, she'd yet to give him an indication that she liked him. There was nothing there.

He shook his head and stood up. Kiss her. God, could Delko be a bigger idiot? What the hell was that supposed to accomplish, anyway? And what was he supposed to do, just walk into the DNA lab, grab her face and shove his tongue in her mouth? Horatio would hang his balls off the ceiling and then the whole lab would whack them with sticks piñata style until candy came out of them.

Of course, this would be a sure way to get his answer right then and there. Either she kicked him in the nuts, or... of course she _wouldn't_ kiss him back, ever, but there was still a slight possibility that she would. Or not. Probably not, but he was sure that if she rejected him he'd get over her quickly and then things would go back to normal. And he desperately missed normal.

Ryan sighed, gathering his uneaten lunch, leaving the break room and discovering a whole new amount of hatred towards Eric Delko.

---

He stood outside the DNA lab again, watching her.

She still looked a tad melancholic, but not nearly as depressed as she'd looked the day before. Ryan cleared his throat, gathering all the courage he could muster and trying to tame his nervousness. Whatever possessed him to talk to Delko about this? I'd only served to make him even more nervous.

"Hey, Valera," he said as he walked in.

Valera looked up and smiled. "Hey. I finished processing your sample from the Pruitt case. Eric just came to get it."

"Oh, good," Ryan said, nodding awkwardly and looking around. He began to lean against the table, but fearing it would collapse he quickly stood up straight again and crossed his arms, feeling like a 14 year old. "What are you up to now?"

Valera looked at him and frowned slightly. "Working?"

Ryan nodded. "Working. Good deal."

"Yeah," she said, her attention back to her sample before she remembered something and looked up again. "Hey, I wanted to thank you again."

He tried to act casual, but he got the feeling it wasn't working. "Oh?"

"For, you know," she said, "making me feel better, I really appreciate it."

Ryan smiled, and thought he could feel all the blood rushing to his head. "It's no problem."

She shook her head. "I know it's stupid—"

"You're not stupid," he said softly.

"I just feel bad, you know?" she said. "I mean, he was Natalia's ex-husband, she's the one who should be feeling sad, not me."

"Well, maybe the fact that she isn't kinda proves my point, Valera. He was an asshole," Ryan said.

"I know," she said. "Still, you know? Nobody deserves to get killed."

He chuckled slightly. Leave it to Valera to feel bad for a convicted abuser. It was one of the things he was starting to find a tad endearing about her. Becoming a cop made him grow bitter and a little soulless, angry with the criminals and hell, sometimes the victims, too. He grew tired of getting disappointed by humanity each day that he had to chase after killers, rapists, child molesters... And the more people he put behind bars, the more people broke the law the next day and the day after. Sometimes he felt like this job was a huge waste of time.

But Valera tended to see things a bit differently, and suddenly he felt like he was taking a deep breath after being lost underwater for years. Dramatic, maybe, but he liked her humanity and it made him believe maybe he wasn't so dead inside after all.

She smiled at him and his heart did a little something weird, and suddenly Eric's voice took over his mind and Ryan could hear him yelling. _Just kiss her!_ Just like that. Just lean in and kiss her and wait for a response. If she pushed him away, then he would just apologize and leave. If she didn't... he didn't know if it was a little bit disconcerting that he was starting to think that would be a good thing.

He leaned in a fraction of an inch, chickened out but then tried it again, this time made it to maybe two inches before she looked down at his feet and then up at him with an odd expression on her face.

"Are you okay?" she said.

Ryan snapped out of it quickly and moved away, feeling an overwhelming urge to beat himself senseless with a centrifuge. "Yeah," he said, frowning. "I just, uh..." he hesitated, looking down, "I, uh, have to go to the bathroom."

Valera looked at him and frowned. "Okay."

"Okay," he said quickly and took a deep breath, unable to look her in the eyes, "so... I'll see you around or—tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Well, whenever, okay?" he said nervously. "I'll see you whenever or—Monday."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Okay," he said and left just as quickly.

Outside, he found the nearest wall and proceeded to bash his head against it repeatedly, hoping the mental retardation would kick in as quickly as possible. When it didn't he sighed and smacked his hand against his forehead, noticing a few people were looking in his direction. With as much dignity as he could he took a deep breath and began to walk away, feeling that if anything things were even more confusing than before.

Only one thing he knew with all certainty: he hated Eric Delko with every molecule of his body.

TBC


End file.
